Michael "Mike" George Engel

On August 2, 2026, Michael George Engel (“Mike”) passed away unexpectedly while on vacation in Muskoka, surrounded by his family in one of his favourite places. He lived life fully, on his own terms, with passion, humour, and an unwavering devotion to the people and pursuits he loved.

Mike was a striking presence. Handsome, warm, irreverent, and truly larger than life, he had a way of commanding every room he entered. As his nephew Jason described him, Mike was “part Sports Illustrated, part feral beast.” It was a description that made everyone who knew him smile, because it was undeniably true.

A remarkable athlete, Mike approached everything with relentless determination. He once rode his beloved Bottecchia road bike from Oshawa, where he grew up, to Welland and back. He completed the Toronto Marathon and, despite collapsing near what he believed was the finish line, convinced in his delirium that his friend was there waiting to greet him, he got back up and finished the race.

Mike loved squash. He proudly taught his son, Adam, how to play, only to discover that he would never beat Adam again. Adam went on to become the Canadian Under-15 Squash Champion and a member of Team Canada Squash. Together, they travelled throughout North America and Europe for tournaments, creating lifelong memories in places such as Edinburgh, Birmingham, Vancouver, Calgary, Connecticut, New York, and Boston, to name a few. The Engel family still fondly recalls countless squash weekends at White Oaks, watching Adam’s killer matches with their hearts racing while Mike sternly counselled him between games. On at least one occasion, this included Mike grabbing Adam by the collar of his shirt, telling the overly enthusiastic young Adam to snap out of it. Adam trusted Mike’s advice then, and throughout his life. Adam was not finished making his father proud. Years later, Adam broke Mike’s thirty-six-year LOSSA javelin record, making headlines in the newspaper. The fact that his only son was the one to beat his longstanding record meant a lot. The LOSSA Online Track Database remains unchanged to-date with Mike’s name immediately below Adam’s (the reigning champion). To say the Engels were competitive would be an understatement. Anyone who knew Mike knew his favourite sports were the ones he was good at. Doug, Mike’s close friend, might tell you Mike was a killer at lawn darts, a game that took a lot of drinks to enjoy and be good at, which Mike had no problem with.

Growing up in Oshawa, Mike worked on the General Motors assembly line, a fact he proudly reminded everyone of throughout his life. He often joked that there were only two numbers he would never forget: his GM employee number and his Law Society of Ontario number, which Tara ‘branded’ herself with like cattle, as Mike remarked many times, to remind herself of the man who made her the lawyer she is today. Mike never complained. He always worked hard. One of his many side gigs was schlepping furniture around the house for his wife, and later for his son and daughter as they moved into homes of their own. He always said that if there was any way he could help, he would. He explained, however, that if he wanted to schlepp, or enjoyed doing it, then it wasn’t really schlepping. The same logic applied to his “aimless wandering” drives through the country roads. The family knew better than to ask where they were going. It would ruin the whole plot. It was always a pleasant ‘surprise’ when the family ended up in Port Perry at The Piano for brunch or at Slabtown in Uxbridge for ciders and butter tarts.

Mike attended St. Michael’s College on a track scholarship before earning a degree in Philosophy from the University of Toronto and later graduating from Osgoode Hall Law School. After beginning his career as a Crown Attorney, Mike built a distinguished career as a criminal defence lawyer, earning the respect of colleagues, judges, and clients alike for his remarkable intellect, fearless advocacy, and tireless work ethic. Early in his career, he defended Keith Richards on drug trafficking charges and loved telling people that, obviously, “it was simply cheaper for the rock star to buy in bulk”. Keith was acquitted. Even after threatening retirement for years, Mike practised law until the very end, delighting in telling family and friends exactly how he had the Crown “trapped” in his latest cases. Mike practised at every level of court. His daughter Tara proudly watched him argue before the Supreme Court of Canada. It was a nine-judge panel, and the first time Tara had ever seen her dad nervous. Gratifyingly and perhaps unsurprisingly, he won. A much-anticipated decision followed by a phone call to his daughter: “Victory Is Mine!”.

Mike ran his practice out of an old Victorian home on Queen Street East in Toronto, where Tara now practises. The building became known as the Engel Law Chambers, and Mike proudly told people about the brilliant legal minds who had practised there over the years. He was immensely proud of his former articling student and now close friend Cory G. Mike revelled in Cory’s successes, including a recent case Cory argued before the Supreme Court of Canada. He had no doubt that his legacy would continue in Cory’s work.

Fittingly, the office is located near the Don Valley River bridge bearing the words, “This river I step in is not the river I stand in.” Mike and Tara knew the Heraclitus reference well and spoke about it often on their Thursday walks to lunch at Il Ponte. Everything is constantly changing: the river appears to remain the same, but its water is always moving, just as the person who steps into it is always changing. Mike appreciated this paradox. We must accept the transience of our existence; the only constant is change.

Mike possessed an electric soul. Anyone who knew him knew that music wasn’t simply something he loved; it was part of who he was. He chased Muddy Waters and the blues, stood backstage during the Rolling Stones’ legendary CNIB concert, and treasured a personalized autographed record from Keith Richards. One unforgettable evening found him handcuffed to his then-girlfriend at a Clash concert. When “London Calling” began, the crowd erupted, Mike was swept toward the stage, and chaos naturally followed. It became another of the countless stories only Mike could tell. At one of the many ‘Engel Estate’ parties, Mike played Metallica so loudly that he melted the amplifier. Multiple amplifiers thereafter suffered the same fate. The Engel family and friends spent countless nights in the loft, playing rock ’n’ roll and shooting pool. Unsurprisingly, Adam and Mike often battled intensely at the pool table. Adam would tell his dad that he should simply “concede” to Adam’s inevitable win. Unfortunately for Adam, Mike won their last pool game and remains the reigning champion, a title Mike would have held proudly.

We all have a song that comes to mind when we think of Mike. He was a creature of habit, and somehow, he had the perfect song for every moment and every occasion. For instance, every Christmas, without fail, the family listened to Dylan Thomas’s “A Child’s Christmas in Wales”, Joni Mitchell’s “River,” and, of course, Mike’s favourite, John Prine’s “Christmas in Prison.”

Mike felt strongly about Sunday family dinners. The Engels fondly recall warm summer nights in the backyard when Mike would grill steaks, often to charcoal, which Adam relentlessly critiqued, as Leonard Cohen filled the air and red wine filled each glass. Mike loved Leonard Cohen’s 2016 farewell letter to his beloved Marianne, particularly its final promise that he would be with her soon “in our house.” Mike loved his home in Pickering, its beautiful backyard, his man-cave in the loft, and, as he put it, “room for everyone.” When asked to go elsewhere for special occasions, he always demanded the festivities be held at his house or else he wasn’t going. He always won these fights, because a party without Mike simply wasn’t a party at all. Mike often reminded the family that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.

Mike loved Toronto institutions like the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, Ed Mirvish, Massey Hall, the El Mocambo, and the Silver Rail Tavern, where he and his beloved wife Julie created treasured memories together. He often reminisced about court recesses spent at the Silver Rail, where judges, Crown attorneys, defence counsel, accused persons, and complainants would all somehow find themselves sharing the same space. Every December, Mike and Tara attended Handel’s Messiah at the TSO. Mike always teared up when the “Hallelujah” chorus was performed.

Mike loved theatre. Every summer, Mike and Tara went to the Stratford Festival, a tradition that brought him immense joy. This summer, Mike saw Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman and Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, two plays concerned, in very different ways, with time, the measure of a life, and our tendency to believe there will always be more of it. If Death of a Salesman asks how a life should ultimately be measured, Mike’s answer can be found in the people who loved him and in the enormous absence he leaves behind. And if Waiting for Godot reminds us how much of life can be spent waiting for what comes next, Mike lived differently. He did not wait for life to happen. He inhabited it fully.

Above all else, Mike was devoted to his family.

He adored his wife, Julie. Julie and Mike met at a party held by the Police Club on Victoria Street in Scarborough on a Wednesday night. Mike approached Julie, who was not all that interested in speaking with him. Mike couldn’t take the hint. He then proudly played Julie his new ringtone. It was the Tarzan theme song. This somehow sealed the deal, and they were together forever after that. In March of this year, they celebrated their thirty-sixth wedding anniversary in Aruba, a place the Engel family returned to year after year. Julie was Mike’s rock and his partner in every sense of the word. Family and friends still fondly remember their wedding reception at Fantasy Farm in Toronto in 1989. Mike especially loved telling the story of Julie calling him after their engagement to announce that they would be getting married in just three weeks. She got a deal because of a wedding cancellation and in true Julie spirit jumped on the bargain. Mike always joked that it was Julie’s revenge as Mike had never actually asked her to marry him; instead, one evening, he simply announced to her entire family that they were getting married. Julie was both mortified and unbelievably happy at the same time. However unconventional the proposal, from the beginning it was clear they had found their lifelong partners in one another. Julie and Mike’s marriage is difficult to reduce to words. Julie always said she could count on one hand how many nights they spent apart. Mike’s trusted colleague Alexandra once told Tara how remarkable he was as a family man. He spoke constantly and proudly about his wife and children. No matter how difficult the day had been, or how frustrated he might have been after dealing with a particularly challenging case, his entire demeanor would soften the moment he called Julie. He would sweetly greet her as “sweetheart,” ask what he could do for her, and tell her he would be home soon. After all their years together, Mike never lost that tenderness for his wife. He had a soft spot for Julie from the beginning, and he carried it with him throughout their entire marriage. His children learned from him the value of a work-life balance, a lesson that has proved invaluable.

Aruba became the backdrop to countless beautiful and characteristically ridiculous Engel family memories. On one trip, Tara convinced her dad to walk from Paradise Beach Villas to the California Lighthouse, approximately ten kilometres under the unforgiving high-noon sun. By the time they stumbled into the restaurant at the lighthouse, the only sensible response was beer and shots of Fireball. There, they sat together talking about Virginia Woolf and how, in their estimation, they had “ruined everything.” Tara threatened the lighthouse walk each year, taunting Mike that next time they would walk there and back.

The Engels were rarely interested in doing things the easy way. Beyond their long walks along the beach to Jimmie’s Bar, they would hike the back route into Arikok National Park, always at high noon, of course, often finding themselves entirely alone, a fact perhaps explained by the reality that it was a journey most sane people would never attempt. For the Engels, that was part of the fun.

One unforgettable memory and a laugh the Engels have long held at Adam’s expense came from a trip to Aruba around 2016. Adam had been out at the bars, drinking his face off, in a “legless” state. At an ungodly hour, Mike opened the door to find Adam locked out and looking as though he had seen a ghost. Adam explained that he had left the bar for an afterparty and, on his way back to the resort, had been chased by a pack of stray dogs, running barefoot and hopping fences for his life. Although the Engels felt bad for him, by the next day sympathy had given way to comedy. For the remainder of the trip, they played Kid Cudi’s “Memories” on repeat, revelling in its celebration of all the crazy things done the night before. Mike always had the perfect song for every occasion.

That was not Adam’s first harrowing adventure with Mike. On another occasion, Adam and Mike decided they were going to navigate the entire island surrounding a cottage the family frequented in Georgian Bay by canoe. They set out with their neighbour Robert Jr. and Mike’s nephew Mitch. Robert and Mitch made it back hours before Adam and Mike. It turned out that Mike and Adam had been paddling the canoe backwards, and Mike had absolutely no idea where they were on the massive lake. Characteristically, Mike disclosed none of his panic to Adam until they were safely home. Only once they were back on solid ground did he explain just how dire their situation had been.

By now, it should come as no surprise that Mike found himself in his share of precarious situations. On one trip, the Engels set out on a four-wheel-drive Jeep excursion through their beloved Arikok National Park, with Mike behind the wheel. The terrain was terrifying even for an experienced driver. Almost immediately, they encountered another couple stranded precariously near the side of a cliff. Soon enough, Mike’s Jeep was stuck near the edge of a rugged, volcanic slope that felt like the surface of Mars. Tara, furious and terrified, cursed her dad and abandoned ship. Amanda, a grade-school teacher, remained remarkably calm and coached Mike through the treachery, assuring him that he was doing a good job. Mike later said that was the moment he knew Amanda was the one for Adam, and his love and admiration for her only deepened from there. It was only once they were safely back on paved roads that Mike admitted the Jeep’s brakes did not really work. Just as in the canoe, Mike had remained outwardly calm. He was, always, the family rock.

The Engels learned of the COVID-19 pandemic while in Aruba, sitting on Eagle Beach. The island had emptied out, but the Engels did not seem to care. Tara posted beach pictures while friends messaged to ask whether she had seen the news and understood what was happening. Despite the bizarre circumstances, the family sat together on the beach and jokingly listened to R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” Nothing seemed to matter because the family was together. Shortly thereafter, the Engels were home in lockdown and celebrating Adam and Amanda’s two-year anniversary. Tara, the family chef, planned a beautiful dinner at what she christened “Bella Couca.” She made Mike dress entirely in black, put on sunglasses, and stand at the entrance to the loft holding a flashlight as security for the family party. Outside hung a sign: “Welcome to Club Michel.”

Mike loved to golf. He taught Adam, and eventually Tara, how to play. It was not long before Adam was out-driving him, though this did little to diminish Mike’s enthusiasm for either the game or his own abilities. Every summer, Mike religiously golfed at Oakridge each Friday, insisting on walking all 18 holes. Mike shared his love of golf with his children and with many dear friends, including Brad, Jim, Rick, Stewart, Tyler, and Cory, to name only a few. Anyone who played a round with Mike quickly learned the rules: if he hit even a half-decent shot, the appropriate response was, “Nice shot, Big Guy.” He made sure of it. And without fail, every time Mike stepped onto a golf course, he found an opportunity to tell his friends what an extraordinary golfer Adam had become. Mike liked to explain that Adam had probably learned the game by watching his father closely and then doing the exact opposite. Fittingly, Adam eventually earned his own place on Oakridge’s “Eagle Tree” on the fifteenth hole. It was a par five, over 500 yards, and Adam sank it in three shots when he was fifteen years old. Mike and Rick did not know whether to shit or wind their watches. Mike could not have been prouder of Adam.

Mike was endlessly proud of his children, Adam and Tara.

He admired Adam’s drive and accomplishments, celebrating his success both as an athlete and as a banker. Mike welcomed Adam’s wife, Amanda, affectionately known by the family as “Panda,” as one of his own. Their morning coffees together became known simply as their “Panda Chats,” moments they both treasured deeply. Mike was ecstatic when Adam and Amanda bought their beautiful home in Whitby. He was excited to one day become a grandfather. When Amanda asked what their children should call him, he said, with a straight face, “Big Mike.”

Mike and his daughter Tara shared an extraordinary bond. It surprised no one when she became a lawyer and followed in her father’s footsteps. One of Mike’s longtime colleagues and friends once joked that he had probably read Tara the Charter as a bedtime story. Few things brought Mike greater pride than hearing about Tara’s victories in court and watching her find her own place within the legal community. He was particularly proud of the relationships she had built with lawyers and judges, many of whom had known and respected Mike throughout his own career.

Law also gave Mike and Tara an endless source of conversation. At the end of a long day, they would often debrief, swapping courtroom war stories, some maddening, many hilarious, and dissecting the personalities, arguments, and absurdities they had encountered that day. Mike delighted in Tara’s stories just as much as he loved recounting his own, particularly when he had managed to get a Crown exactly where he wanted them. In those conversations, they were father and daughter, but also two lawyers who genuinely loved the law and loved talking about it with one another. He admired Tara’s ambition and accomplishments, but he was prouder still of the person she had become.

Their relationship extended far beyond the law. They shared a love of philosophy, literature, and theatre, an endless curiosity about the world, and the same irreverent sense of humour. They could move effortlessly from the profound to the ridiculous and, quite often, found the ridiculous in the profound. The last play they saw together at Stratford was Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, perhaps a fitting final choice for two people who understood that life can be strange and absurd, but that its meaning is found in the people beside us while we are here.

Mike also adored his faithful dog, Kamu, named after the French existentialist philosopher Albert Camus. All the neighbours knew Mike and Kamu well because Mike walked Kamu every single morning. Mike often joked that he would have to predecease Kamu because he could never bear losing him. The Engels knew this to be true: they were inseparable. Kamu, unsurprisingly, has been stoic about the tragic news. In the spirit of his namesake, he remains undecided about whether to have a cup of coffee or kill himself.

Every year in Aruba, as the family climbed Hooiberg together, Mike would remind everyone of Camus’ enduring lesson from The Myth of Sisyphus: “One must imagine Sisyphus happy, it is the struggle that fills man’s heart”. Mike lived by those words. He taught his family that life has no meaning except the meaning we choose to create; that we must work hard, love deeply, and make our lives worth living.

One of Mike’s favourite plays was Shakespeare’s King Lear. Today, one line carries a meaning his daughter never imagined it would:

“How much do I love you? I cannot heave my heart into my mouth.”

There is no question that Mike was a legend. He was brilliant, fiercely loyal, endlessly funny, intellectually curious, wildly competitive, and utterly unforgettable. Mike was unapologetically himself.

He leaves behind his beloved wife, Julie; his children, Adam and Tara; his daughter-in-law, Amanda; Amanda’s parents, Karen and Doug; his mother-in-law, Mona; his sister-in-law, Hayley; her children, Mitch and Kyle; Kyle’s wife, EN, and their daughters; his brother, Rich, and sister-in-law, Karen, and their children; Pamela and Jennifer, their partners and children; his late sister Jeanette’s children, Jason and Chris, and their families; as well as his extended family in Wales through Julie. Not to mention his many loyal and beloved friends and colleagues, all of whom mourn him deeply.

Mike spent his final week exactly as he would have wanted: surrounded by family in Muskoka. He kayaked, swam in the lake, shared Doug’s famous Caesars, enjoyed Karen’s incredible cooking, held “situation room” meetings with Adam and Doug, laughed endlessly, and made memories his family will cherish forever.

Beneath his rugged exterior was a man with a profound love of literature, philosophy, and beauty. His favourite poem was Adonais: “An Elegy on the Death of John Keats” by Percy Bysshe Shelley, whose words now seem especially fitting:

“Peace, peace! He is not dead, he doth not sleep—

He hath awakened from the dream of life.”

Mike will live on in the stories that grow richer with every telling, in the lessons he taught, in the laughter he inspired, and in the love he gave so freely. His presence cannot be replaced, and his memory will never fade.

I love you, Dad.

Nice Shot, Big Guy.